Mine
by MidnightRequiem
Summary: Let’s pretend that the Graveyard Scene in ALW’s musicalmovie went differently and Raoul didn’t interrupt Erik’s attempts to bring Christine back to him. Well, he’s brought her once again to his underground sanctum and is slightly peeved...EC Romance.
1. Rage

"**Mine"**

This actually originated from an RP a friend and I did a while ago. I've altered the parts I contributed into story form. This is focused almost entirely upon Erik…

**Warning**: This will contain mature content as it progresses. E/C romance.

**Setting the scene**: Let's pretend that the Graveyard Scene in ALW's musical/movie went differently and Raoul didn't interrupt Erik's attempts to bring Christine back to him. Well, he's brought her once again to his underground sanctum and is slightly peeved about the whole All I Ask of You thing and the deal with Raoul sleeping outside Christine's door. So, our story starts with Christine hiding in the Louis Phillippe room and Erik in his own.

This is based partly on the recent ALW movie, with the ALW Phantom being the main point of reference for the characterization of Erik. At any rate, Moodswing!Erik makes an appearance.

The unsuspecting door gave a mighty groan with each forceful blow delivered upon its surface. Erik's unrelenting fists reigned heavily upon it; the pain a dull sensation in his raging torrent of emotions. Rage, sadness, betrayal… All twisting their way painfully throughout his already tortured heart. His eyes were glazed…unseeing… blinded by the ferocity within him. His fists ceased their blows when he realized that they were bloodied…the dark liquid seeping from them slowly. Suddenly, he felt drained and his legs crumpled beneath him. Erik landed on the floor of his room in an ungraceful heap…head propped against the battered door, hands lying limply in his lap.

He looked to the ceiling as silent tears cascaded down his face…slipping under the mask and coming to pool at the corner of his lip before plunging quickly onto his battered hands below. He gazed at his hands then, musing silently.

Suddenly, of their own volition, Erik's tears stopped. He watched as the last drop fell onto his upturned palm, mixing with the dark red there. Then it struck him like a blow to the stomach. His fists were bloodied...he was piled in a heap on the floor...his face was wet with salty tears..."But why?" His mind kept asking him. His dizzied, frenzied mind that was trying to make sense of all of this. Red. Dark red. Like a rose. A rose...Christine. CHRISTINE. She was the reason he was in this state.

Unbidden, rage boiled freshly through his heated veins. Christine. The Vicomte. Oh, the Vicomte. The insidious, insolent fool. How he dared to claim his beloved...HIS angel...and she let him. That lying little vixen let him. Damn her! Damn them both! His chest was heaving now...constricting with tight, heavy breaths. He managed to raise himself to his feet, temple throbbing, pulse racing. Christine. Here...in his house.

Paying no heed to his bloodied hands, he turned to face the splintered wood of his bedroom door...pressing his ear towards it. Nothing. He could hear nothing. Was she here? Had she fled? There was only one way to find out, he concluded, as he slowly and silently inched open the door. Darkness. Darkness dotted by the flickering flames of candlelight...and...silence. Heavy, uncomfortable silence. He stalked stealthily from his room, adjusting to the dimness with adept grace.

Erik halted his gait immediately at the sound...barely discernible, but he heard it. A soft emission...from the direction of Christine's room. An all knowing smirk graced his malformed lips and his eyes glinted dangerously, rivaling the flickering candlelight. He stalked towards Christine's room more quickly now...ears and eyes open for any more signs of inhabitance. Though...he knew she was there. In her room. Most likely cowering...hiding from him. Erik's face twisted into a grin of sadistic glee at that thought...growing wider as he finally reached her open door.

He watched her from the doorway...watched her quivering form with glinting eyes. She knew he was there. He could feel it. He could smell her fear. He heard a loud whimper emanate from her and chuckled darkly. Stepping into the room and off to the side, into the shroud of darkness, he waited for her to say something. He wanted to gauge her reaction carefully to see how he was to play this game. He the cat, she the mouse.

When he heard her rasp his name into the darkness, Erik bristled instinctively. It seemed rough...and uncharacteristic for Christine. But then, after hearing how desperate, how frightened the syllables sounded...his sadistic rage quieted within him and he gained the prowess to step from the shadows. Pinning her with a burning stare, he gave a mock bow, lilting, "Yes, my dear?"

When she gave no reply, and only inched towards the wall behind her, he advanced upon her slowly, deliberately...never once breaking their intense gaze. The depths of her eyes seemed limitless...he wanted to own them...to own her...completely. Finally, he reached her...saying nothing...just piercing her with his fiery gaze. The moment was tense...he standing over her, power emanating from his cloaked figure...she cowering against the wall. At last...one lithely muscled arm shot out and clasped hers, dragging her to her feet. Before she could react, he pinned her to the wall...one thigh between her two legs, her arms braced above her, his face inches away from hers. His eyes burned like the fires from hell.

Erik devoured her face with his eyes hungrily...he could see the blush tinting her cheeks, the spark of fear and something...else...in her eyes. He heard her pulse throbbing violently, her heart pounding. Knowing he had her enraptured, he asked, "Would you deny me, Christine?" He ran his thumb over one of her captured hands. "Would you deny me happiness and run off with your Vicomte?" He lowered his head to her neck...growling, "Would your Vicomte make you happy, Christine? Would he?"

Erik inhaled her scent, bringing his lead level with hers again and waited for her answer. Eyes boring deeply into hers, into her very soul.

When she shook her head and rasped out a struggled, "No," he gave her an appraising look and he snorted most uncharacteristically. His lips twisted into a sort of pleased smirk. "No, he would not." he echoed her reply, bending to whisper the words in her ear. Though they were soft and melodic, they rang finality into the still room. But suddenly, in an instant, the smirk disappeared and his face transformed into the embodiment of anger. His grip on her hands tightened, and his leg dug its way closer to her, trapping her indefinitely. "And yet…" he hissed, "And yet you cling to him…your darling, precious Vicomte." He growled out the word Vicomte loudly, making her jump. "And you…betray me. ME…your angel, Christine. I have given you so much…so much music…so much passion…but you always return to HIM. Why do this, if you know he will not make you happy? Hmmmm?" His eyes glinted dangerously once more, challenging her. "I know he's been sleeping outside your door, Christine. I know what you did on the rooftop. Do not play me for a fool. Do NOT pretend like I am oblivious to what is going on in this opera house. It is my domain…my play ground. I see all…I hear all. Erik KNOWS all." He snarled all of this into her face, spittle flying from his lips, not concerned with her comfort, blinded by his raging emotions.

"You are mine, Christine. You belong to ME," he spat furiously, his eyes shooting daggers at her. The moment was pregnant with tension until finally, with one last derisive snort, he removed his hands from hers, retracted his leg, and turned away from her, his fists balled, his shoulders taut and his jaw set.

_A/N: Next chapter to come soon! _

_**Please review…it would make my day! **_


	2. Forgiveness

**"Mine" **

**Chapter 2: Forgiveness **

**A/N**: Standard disclaimer applies.

As he was bristling just a few feet away from her, he heard Christine begin to sob softly and his shoulders sank. He had forgotten himself again...he was frightening her again. Always frightening her...she could never love him, the monster full of malice and hate.

His jaw softened, his fists loosened, and one blood stained hand reached up to touch his mask. He pulled his hand away as if burned, and was filled with self-loathing. He sighed loudly, a lump forming in his throat; he still could not face her. It was as if his whole demeanor crumbled.

"Christine...I... Oh, Christine..." He began to cry softly himself...letting the tears of self loathing fall down his cheeks once more.

He heard her utter the words, "I'm sorry, Erik…" and sighed.

"Oh, Christine" he whispered as he turned slowly to face her. Upon seeing her defeated form, his gaze softened. He made eye contact with her once more only, this time, no burning rage filled his orbs, only an intense sadness.

"Christine...my angel...I…I...am yours. Do with your Erik as you please, Christine."

With that, he fell to his knees before her and tentatively reached for the hem of her skirts. He kissed it delicately, his head bowed in supplication.

A moment passed, and then Erik felt Christine's hand resting lightly, hesitantly on the top of his head. He shivered at the slight contact, and raised his mismatched eyes to hers. She made no sound, but slowly brought her hand toward him to cup his unmarred cheek. He sucked in a tight breath as he felt the skin of her palm rest lightly on that of his cheek. He tilted his face into her touch, reveling in the sensation.

No words were spoken, but no words were needed. Christine's act of reaching out to him and touching him of her own free will spoke volumes to him.

He felt more like the mouse now…a mere puppy dog, willing to do anything for his mistress. He had said he owned her, yes…she belonged to him, she belonged with him…but it was she who owned him, who captivated him. She had held supreme power over his soul; from the first moment he had heard her sing, she had claimed it. Looking into her eyes, he sang softly, "Fate links thee to me for ever and a day."

Erik saw Christine smile softly, and she removed her hand from his cheek. He was confused and slightly disappointed at first, but then he watched as the same hand that had caressed his cheek a moment ago had joined her other and both were now offered to him, palms up.

So inviting...oh, if he could just breach the gap. It seemed like miles, his Christine seemed miles away from him. How would he ever reach her? Those hands of ivory represented everything he was not. Erik gazed from her outstretched hands to his own...and found them trembling. He slowly reached out of his own hands, his fingertips brushing hers.

Erik let out a deep, raspy breath and then brought Christine's hand to his malformed lips, placing an airy kiss on the back of it. Then, still holding her gaze, he deftly lifted himself off of the floor, coming to stand in front of her, his hand still lightly clutching her own.

Her voice was still shaky, yet gentle, as she whispered, "Will you…will you hold me, Erik?"

He thought he must have been dreaming. Did she just say what he thought she did? She wanted him...to hold her? He, the angel of death?

He could not deny his Christine. He went to her quickly, enveloping her in his velvet cloaked arms, tucking her head beneath his chin, murmuring softly into her perfumed hair.

"Christine..." he sighed, burying his face in her tresses. His hands came to rest on the small of her back, encircling her timidly, but with barely suppressed possessiveness. "My Christine..."


	3. Seduction: Part 1

"**Mine"** **Chapter 3: Seduction (Part 1)**

**A/N**: Yeah, yeah, yeah…I don't own Phantom or Erik and all that jazz. Honestly, if I did, do you think I'd be sitting here writing phan phics?

His breath caught when she sighed...a gentle, contented sigh. And he had coaxed it from her. He wondered...what else could he coax from her lips? It was with that thought that he seized her hands gently from their place on his chest, delicately twining his fingers with hers.

He saw a flash of pink dart from Christine's mouth and could not keep his eyes away from her lips. He though that if he concentrated enough, they might reach up to touch his own. Oh, but...she would not dare kiss him. He, with his malformed lips...his head of death. And yet...in her eyes...he saw the spark of promise...of things to come.

Slowly tearing his eyes from her lips, his fiery gaze made its way up to her eyes once more... and, never breaking his stare, he lifted one of the twined pairs of their hands, planting a slow, hot kiss to the sensitive skin of her palm.

Erik delighted in the sensations he felt from the chaste kiss to her hand. So velvety...smooth...just as he had always imagined. He watched her as she closed her eyes in what he hoped was pleasure...saw the shiver that took hold of her. Empowered by her reaction, he asked, "Can your Vicomte make you shiver so, Christine?"

His eyes flickered with emotion. Bringing his lips to her ear, he whispered,

"Can he make your senses tingle?"

He lowered his head to her creamy shoulder, breathing hotly against it.

"Tell me, Christine...tell me..." he whispered against her collarbone.

He heard her struggled reply of "No…no, he can't…" and smirked against her skin.

"Indeed." He breathed into her supple neck. "And what…pray tell…does he do to you? For you? I have always…wondered, my dear. What exactly is it that sends you to him? Might you…" he nuzzled lightly against her neck…nipping bravely, gently, at the soft skin there.

"Might you…enlighten me?"

He noticed her breathing was becoming increasingly erratic as she struggled to reply. "He tells me…I'm not safe with you and that…that I'm meant for him," she finally answered. He suddenly felt her hands grip his own tightly, almost as if she had done it unknowingly, and he enjoyed the unexpected sensation. He could see how his ministrations affected her.

He smirked bemusedly at her response, answering, "And are you, Christine? Are you safe with me? Because I can assure you that you are most certainly not meant for him." The timbre of his voice was low, dangerous and husky: he growled out the last word.

Erik then stopped his attentions to her neck and brought his head level with hers once more. The burning stare was back in place as one of his hands removed itself from her grip momentarily.

It was now free to slink it's way up her side airily, coming to rest lightly against her cheek. "Alive...safe" he echoed, "Alive..."

Without warning, he spun her around, moving her so that her back was flush against his front. The hand that cupped her cheek moved to her soft curls once more, lightly stroking...admiring. His other hand remained twined with hers, and was laid to rest snugly against her belly, spread out flat. His long, agile fingers covered hers possessively. Softly, his voice barely above a whisper, he sang..."Angel of music...do not shun me. Come to your strange angel."

_**Sorry for the short chapter…next ones will be longer. **_

**_Please read…AND review_**.


	4. Seduction: Part 2

**"Mine" **

**Chapter 4: Seduction (Part 2)**

**A/N: **_Dontcha just love smutty, fluffy phan phics? I know I do. ;)_

_A big thank you to those who reviewed. You really did make my day. This chapter is for you guys._

Erik heard the woman in his arms sigh softly; he could never grow tired of the sound of her contented sighs escaping her lips. It was like music to him: lush, heavenly music that filled his soul and made his heart soar.

Oh, how he loved her. How he wanted her…needed her. She could never grasp just how much he yearned for her. He wanted her so badly…all of her…mind, body, soul, and voice. His eyes slipped closed at last, just reveling in the sensation of Christine…his Christine…held tightly in his arms. And, he continued to sing...softly at first...but his voice grew louder with each note, finally reaching the crescendo that signaled the end of his song. How he hoped it was not the end of their embrace.

He shuddered in delight as she began to sing the song he had used to seduce her to come to his lair.

His pulse raced, and a low growl escaped his lips as she finished the first verse. Her voice was angelic…pure…and he delighted in the fact that it was directed towards him.

Pulling her even closer, he belted out silkily, "Sing once again with me! Our strange duet…my power over you grows stronger yet…and though you turn from me, to glance behind, the Phantom of the Opera is _here_, inside your mind."

His breath was ragged as he concluded his verse, his every nerve tingling with taut sensation. The hand formerly engaged with stroking Christine's hair made it's way down…down…slowly, softly over her delicate neck… her deliciously creamy shoulders…daring to lightly skim over her breasts…ending its journey next to his other hand and hers, resting tightly on her belly.

He bent his head to her neck once more, deeply inhaling her intoxicating scent…waiting with fire in his veins for her voice to break the heated silence.

…He was not disappointed.

His mind and body were flooded, overridden with enticing sensation as her voice caressed his very being, her tender notes soaring throughout his lifted soul.

Never before had she abandoned herself so freely to him. Never before had she responded with a passion to rival his own. He was shaking with longing, with desire.

It ruled him completely…passionately. He was tasting of the sublime…

and it was addictive.

And yet, he wanted more. So much, much more. And as he felt her cheek against his, her soft, unmarred cheek, he yearned to be closer to her.

He wanted to be close…so close that he couldn't tell where his form started and hers began.

Erik was nearly panting with emotion as she finished her song, the notes echoing hauntingly, teasing him.

The only sounds in the room were his heaving breaths and her contented sighs until, finally, his voice fraught with yearning wrapped its way silkily around her. "Christine…" he purred into her ear, "I do not know how much more of this I can stand…"

He slid his hands from her stomach down slowly to her hips in a sensual caress, then turned her around gently to face him and his ever - burning eyes.

Unbridled, naked lust danced in his eyes, mixed with adoration and love. Taking her hands in his once more, his voice choked with desire, he said, "We've past the point of no return…will you let the dream descend, Christine?"

And he stood, hands twined with his beloved's: his eyes and soul burning.

Erik sucked in a tight breath and exhaled raggedly as he saw her hands move towards him slowly, caressing their way up his chest to his cheek…it seemed so surreal to him, so incredibly, wonderfully delicious that it wasn't really happening. But when he heard those glorious words slide from her lips, he knew he wasn't dreaming.

"Yes…yes, I will, Erik." She said with confidence.

She had said yes. She wanted to be his. He would not disappoint her.

Drawing in a deep, uneven breath, he closed his eyes, indulging in the feeling of her soft fingertips cradling his cheek. Slowly, he brought his hand up to where hers rested on his face and covered it gently. His thumb stroked the back of her hand as he opened his eyes, hooded with arousal.

He thought the blush staining her cheeks was beautiful as he reached his other hand out to trace her jaw line, his fingertips spreading fire over her.

His eyes locked onto hers, capturing them…owning them. She was his.

She had given him her mind, voice, and soul…only one other aspect remained.

Only one other aspect had he to claim for her to be his completely…his Christine.

Driven by his intense desire, he slowly retracted his hand from her face as the other hand that covered hers followed suit. He clasped both of her hands in his, holding them between them, and taking a deep breath, started slowly walking forward, urging her to tread backwards.

His silky voice soared through the room once more as he sang, "Past the point of no return! The final threshold…the bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn! We've passed the point of no return."

As the last note enveloped them, Christine's back thudded lightly against the wall. She uttered a small squeak of surprise, her eyes raising to his questioningly. The smirk he offered was feral, ravenous.

He unclasped their twined hands gently, raising his to stroke her cheek softly in a sign of reassurance.

His voice a velvet caress, he whispered, "No going back now, Christine…" as he gently gripped one of her wrists in each hand, and slowly placed them over her head to rest on either side of her on the wall. His legs mirrored hers closely, the heat between them like molten lava.

Though it was a gentler, more sensual gesture than they had shared previously when he was the embodiment of rage, Erik still exuded power from his every pore.

Running his fingertips slowly down each suspended arm, coaxing shivers from Christine, he purred, "You…belong…to…me…." His words were no more than a whisper, almost indiscernible, but she heard them. They caressed her soul, and her whole body tingled with anticipation.

Erik's fingertips continued their journey down her arms, playing teasingly across her shoulders, to her collarbone…her neck…ending their divinely tortuous path at her jaw line…where they caressed her on each side of her porcelain face.

"Mine…" he whispered gruffly, and bent his dark head to hers, claiming her lips in a searing kiss.

She did not object, and he felt her submit to him.

Bliss. Pure…bliss….ran through Erik's soul as he indulged in the velvet sweetness that was Christine's lips.

He sighed into her mouth as her hands massaged his neck…no one had ever touched him like this, and it felt divine.

And then…oh and then, she was responding so eagerly to his kiss. When she moaned, he shivered excitedly, slowly running his hands down to cup her pert breasts through her dress, suckling on her lower lip.

As she moaned again, he deepened the kiss, tentatively sliding his tongue into her mouth, giving his own moan of pleasure at the sensation.

Her hands tangled in his hair at the nape of his neck, scratching lightly there as he caressed his way down her front, bringing his hands to rest on her hips. He pressed flush against her then, closer still, making sure she felt what she did to him.

She gave a surprised gasp into his mouth at the hardness nudging her belly, blush painting her cheeks once more.

He ended the kiss with one last press to her lips and moved his hands up off of her hips.

Gently removing her hands from their position round his neck, he clasped them lightly, backed up a few steps from her, and lavished yet another kiss upon each palm.

Looking her in the eyes once more, he said, "I…am but a man, Christine…" and then guided one of her delicate hands to rest on the prominent bulge straining through his dress pants.

"Here…" he growled, "Here is where I want you…" He guided her other hand to rest upon his jacket, above his pounding heart.

"Here…" he choked out…"Is where I will always have you."

_And so the fun begins… ;) _

_Next chapter will be the last._

_Please review…_


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